


What Could've Been

by sugarby



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 19:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18289115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarby/pseuds/sugarby
Summary: "S-So...." you breathe out shakily, calming yourself. From nearly being killed by demons to being whisked away by the infamous character, you've had a bit too much excitement to take in all at once. "You got a name? I've an idea it's not actually 'The Mysterious One' like people keep calling you for lack of creativity.""You can call me V."You were happy. You were glad you met him, that he took you along. There were no regrets in this moment that you wanted to last.(OR: For the insecurities that magic can't fix, your unconditional love and support for him can).





	What Could've Been

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes ideas come from nowhere and I was literally on a bus home when this hit me. I was thinking about his natural hair colour, then bam, here we are. Plus V/Reader fics are pretty in demand right now, and why wouldn’t they be? ❤ 
> 
> Let's continue to love and protect him. Thank you, Capcom, for blessing us with our magical, goth child, ~~even if only for a moment before you cruelly deleted him from the game lmao, smfh~~. Anyway, hope my first 'you/reader' fic is enjoyable.

**i. Him**

You first meet when he saves your life.

Redgrave's gone to hell. Even in the night time, it's horrifically clear. Bloodstains on dirty, damp pathways are illuminated by street lamps, and hollow bodies that once housed organs and life remain still with a case of holes all over.

One tree emerges from the depths and does  _all this_ ; plants its bulging roots in soil and the manmade and in the unwilling and innocent and sucks them of every last drop of  _anything_. The lucky few have escaped and sought shelter somewhere, you hope. But the gruesome alternative looks to be where you're heading, cornered in the middle of the street by three demons.

You shudder, blindly stepping further away and scrunching in to yourself as much as you can, prayers and pleas for mercy streaming in your mind. 

"'Where mercy, love and pity dwell'," a low, gentle verse fills you with relief, a second company joining you seemingly from the shadows. There hadn't been anyone else before as far as you remember; you were alone and now you suddenly aren't. He's all in black, head to toe, in a gothic aesthetic of leather and exposed, pale skin. Quiet spoken but unafraid, unshaken as he reads from the open book in his hand, "'There God is dwelling too.'"

 _The Mysterious One_ , rumours call him.

He who voluntarily wanders around Redgrave with a cane, that book, and demonic magic at his disposal. He whose darkness and dangerous affinity are addressed in the warnings of heretics that you've never truly lent ear to but heard about hear and there. If only, you considering, staring at him, those warnings had included his defining jaw, those deep dimples, and those lips too full and soft to be real.

The demons in front of you tilt their heads, fangs pinching thoughtfully and hungrily at him.

He lifts his cane, a sliver-needle looking thing with gem decor on the handle, and points it out. You nearly go crosseyed realising the tip of it is aiming between them at you, as are his eyes, "I'll be taking them with me." He's not phased by their defensive hiss then, not knowing what his words mean but knowing he means to interfere. "You object?" he hums, amused, and repositions the cane to the ground between their spindly legs. "'Do what you will, this world's a fiction and made up of contradiction'."

You watch his cane with appropriate skepticism. 

Almost nothing happens, until it does. Thick wisps of black run down from the black swirls on his arm and seep out of his cane, smothering the space around the demons' knees. Their fangs click and their tongues slither in and out, bulbous heads darting round in frenzy.

"Gouge them."

Black needles eject from the wisp to instantly impale the demons. A growl simmers, red eyes gleam through and a panther bursts out, claws promising to cleave through demon flesh.

"Reap—"

The panther back-spins and its tail lunges all three of them upwards.

"What you sow."

It follows upward and spins in to a makeshift guillotine, piercing them apart, flesh and blood pouring out to splash down.

You stumble back with a hand to your stomach but your eyes still on the sight.

"Come on."

Half a question, mumbled, passes your lips just as your hand is taken in to his and he's leading you away in hurried steps. You can't process any of this quick enough. While your feet absently move to keep up, you turn your head over your shoulder, still quite clearly hearing the slashing and piercing, unable to keep your mind from picturing it.

You feel him tug on your hand, "Don't look back." you feel the warmth of his whisper against your ear. He's closer than before, pressed right against your side, and you will yourself not to shy away. "Otherwise you won't know what's ahead."

You look at him, taking him in properly. "...Did you mean for that to sound as inspiring as it did?"

He smiles, "I have my moments."

Behind you, relying on sound alone, you pick up the panther he summoned throwing the last demon against and colliding. The building it hits is already collapsed in its own debris, but now its staining with blood and looking like the rest of the city.

"S-So...." you breathe out shakily, calming yourself. From nearly being killed by demons to being  _whisked away_  by the infamous character, you've had a bit too much excitement to take in all at once. "You got a name? I've an idea it's not actually 'The Mysterious One' like people keep calling you for lack of creativity."

"You can call me V."

"V, huh? That's gotta stand for something."

"'There's no certainty, only opportunity'." He brings you to a stop with him as you come to the end of an alleyway and face its gaping arched exit. You hear chatter beyond but find the street lamps there too blinding to make anything out. "As it's apparent you're no longer safe, you must decide."

"Decide what?"

V lets go of his hold on you and takes a couple steps forward, just passing the threshold of the archway. He turns and extends that hand back to you, a black, fingerless glove over the swirls that continue from his arm, nestled against black bracelets. His palm is upturned with sincerity—and safety you weren't expecting to feel. "Whether you'd like to come along and extend this opportunity."

You look in to his eyes, searching for truer intentions in the deep green. You glance at his hand, how it's inviting you. How it doesn't look as rough and malicious as the warnings describe but gentle, careful.

It wasn't that long ago though when people were panicked about the demon-armed boy from a church in Fortuna, and he—Nero—turned out to have a pretty good heart, helping people and all for money in return.

Your hand nears his, "V..." and rests in it. "Just who are you?"

"I can't give away all of my secrets." He pulls you toward him and you follow without question as if hypnotised.

The intricate ink swirls on his other arm gleam and rise, and births a large, dark bird with a peculiar beak divided in three. "In other words," It speaks, apparently. "Not on the first date."

You've seen it all now. There's no weirder predicament you can find yourself in now, surely, after meeting The Mysterious One (and being literally whisked away) and his demon companions. The Panther finally returns, coming down the alleyway behind before vanishing back in to the swirls on V's arm.

"Hey, we're not really taking them along with us, are we?" Griffon asks, his amber eyes on you skeptically. "You've got a good heart, V—made of gold, but do we really need the extra baggage?"

 _'Baggage?!'_  You gape. Did this talking chicken really just...but who are you kidding? He's not wrong. You're a civilian that got caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time trying to cross the city. And there's nothing even left for you here anymore.

"'Can I see another's woe, and not be in sorrow too? Can I see another's grief, and not seek for kind relief?'"

Sue you for being charmed.

Your hand goes to your chest, heart beating with hope.

Griffon rolls his eyes, "Ugh, why do I even fucking bother?" He flies a bit lower between you, keenly eyeing your hands still joined with V's. "Now I'm no expert or anything, but in some cases, isn't holding hands a sign of marriage?"

You squeak and hurry to take back your hand.

V keeps it confined, gently but firm, "Pay him little mind. Shadow's more...tolerable." 

Shadow, circles around his legs appreciatively, and you see the appeal. Whether it can speak or not, it hasn't said a bad word yet.

"Ohh?" Griffon challenges, "I'll remember that next time you're falling outta the sky!"

It's an odd chemistry they have, a human and two demons. You don't notice you're staring too long until your reflection in V's eye go away when he blinks, his eyes just as curiously on you.

V, The Mysterious One.

Theatrical flair to his exorcisms. Secrecy in his vagueness and meaning within his recitals. He's an extraordinary human and you're just...you. But, putting one foot in front of the other and following him past the archway, you figure there are certainly worse people you can be in the company of for several months.

 

* * *

 

**_ii. his hair_ **

 

It's the colour of midnight and drapes over half his face, adding to the mystery. It's softer than you expected, you remember from the time you volunteered to brush a fallen leaf out of it.

You imagine your hands would be entrapped in it if ever your lips and bodies were pressed together, and they'd never be lost because they'd know their way. You'd lovingly stroke it enough times in the lull of peace whenever you could spare it. But what makes you wonder about his hair most is the way it changes, when his third summon, Nightmare, an amalgamation of dark hue and rock, reigns down in hugeness and napalm.

You ask why his hair's dyed black at all.

V's answer doesn't seem implausible, just not accurate. Teasing, even. "I'm afraid the demons will be unkind and compare me to an old man."

"Alright, let's say I buy that crap." Whatever the true reason is, he obviously doesn't want to share it, and you won't pry ( _for now_ anyway). "Nothing against the black. You rock it. Just...don't feel like you have to cover up for other people, _if_ _that's why_."

"No, but," V pats your hand, "I'm glad you're fond of it." Fond? No, more like _in love_. You'd be the club president of all things concerning him if you could, let's be honest. You sigh peacefully, imagining him lying beside you with your hand stroking his hair, reimbursing your affection.

"Jeez," Griffon says, "Where the hell were you back when he turned shit sideways over this sort of thing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Griffon," V calls in warning. "Speak nothing of it." It's unlike V to tell his talkative familiar to shut up.

Now you  _have_  to hear this.

"Last time, he threw a fit. And I mean  _really_  threw a fit. Had a total freak-out first time it turned white and was about to call on some dark forces and shit in the very unlikely event that two half-breeds, with one brain cell _between_ them, mind you, figure out—" Catching his summoner's leer from the corner, and possibly somewhat sympathising, he adjusts his words. "Let's just say, Kid, V here isn't confident he can pull off the Queen Elsa look."

You look to V but he purposely misses your gaze and gladly allows his hair to hide his expression. For his sake, and in the spirit of the aforementioned fictional royalty, you  _let it go_.  

 

* * *

 

**iii. his tattoos**

 

“You can’t go in to a Japanese bath house.” Neither of you literally spoke a word of Japan yet you found yourself ogling him—like always—and just spoke.

Chuckling at your nonchalance, he says, “I’ll live. It's never occurred to me you're the type to enjoy bathing with strangers, though."

"You're no stranger, V.  _Strange_  but..." he chuckles again; that's a point in your favour. "I wouldn't mind if I went with a friend or something, I guess. But I'm not looking to go to jail." He raises a brow at you. "Nero's devil breaker would probably short circuit, then Nico'd kill him and that'd make me an accomplice."

"I see." V nods. The two of you recently met Nero and Nico, so you haven't known them long, but you're already familiar with their ways and know the artisan would lose her shit, being as attached to her inventions as she is. She never lets Nero step out of the van anyway without warning him to  _'watch the merchandise, asshole!'_.

"How far do they go anyway? Your tattoos."

" _Just_  my upper body." V smirks. He's perceptive of your not-so subtle thoughts, in tune with read to your not so subtle thoughts, too in tune with reading the air between you. His eyes are pinned to your throat bobbing under the intensity, and you feel the world encompassing the two of you spinning to a blur.

"You wouldn't be imagining them someplace _private_  now, would ya?" Griffon cheekily pecks at your cheek, trying to get it out of you. He's pushed away by your hand as you try to laugh it off as nonsense. But you were thirsting and imagining the swirls leading past his pelvis and wrapping around his thighs is the cool, refreshing water giving you life.

 

* * *

 

**iv. his book.  
**

 

"'The angel that presided o'oer my birth, said 'little creature born of joy and mirth, go love without the help of anything on earth'."

For every violent situation, there was a verse and more ready to be recited. The book rarely left the clutches of his hands save for killing blows in demons, sinking the end of his cane in to where their hearts would lie, and when nearing exhaustion that he needs to steady himself on his cane to walk.

You make sure he rests when you've the chance. At abandoned inns you pass, and the few decent looking ones still up and running amid the demonic surge.

You ask why poetry. Why he reads it so much—like he breathes. You don’t know what you expect; something philosophical and extra, maybe, like him. Not so simple and exposed as this. “When the world around me is chaotic and dark, I find the familiar calming. These poems and this book have been with me since childhood. I’ve read them repeatedly, the verses engraved, and that, to me, is invaluable.”

“Wow, I’d no idea.”

“Of course not. Unless it’s within your ability to read minds.”

You squint, focusing on him, mostly his forehead. He waits but you sigh in defeat, “Nope. Nothing.”

Griffon cackles, “Maybe there’s just nothing in there but air.”

“And,” V adds. “The echoes of your incessant screeching.”

You laugh while Griffon scowls. "Feel like...I dunno. Sharing, maybe, your past?"

"Not particularly."

"Oh, sorry."

"No, I just suspect a story as pitiful as mine won't entertain you."

"Remind me to introduce you to Twilight."

Maybe it’s not a tale for the light hearted, those sheltered from the world’s cruelest offerings, but even the most trivial, the most sadistic thing will sound oh so delightfully good in his voice. It does a considerable amount to you, weakens your balance and heats up your stomach, plants scenes in your head of skin to skin and lips pressed to form sweet cries.

Some days you wonder how you even look V in the eye.

Most days, you instigate the hug you know, seeing him worn and tired, he desperately needs.

 

* * *

 

**v. His cane**

Nico's good enough to lend you the Devil May Cry van (over Nero's correction that it's actually his and she just drives it. Crazily, he adds) while she kicks her feet up and relaxes at the front, fan blowing through the heat and against her hair. Nero's tinkering away in the back with a devil breaker that managed to just survive complete annihilation and can be spared.

V's sitting on the chair behind her, looking about ready to doze off, Shadow just as sleepy beside his feet next to his cane. It's gotten quite dirty, you notice, with old and new blood and dirt from messy paths.

He trusts you enough that he does no more than raise a brow at your coming over and taking it back with you in the back, grabbing cloths and cleaning spray you find in cupboards. It's the least you can do, you believe, with how they're practically carrying you, no magic you can summon or weapons you can wield or knowledge on robotics to experiment with.

Wiping it down, you say, "Griffon, grab another cloth!" it's dirtier than you realised and the cloth in your hand is already covered in it.

"Do I look like your errand boy?" 

"Hurry up, before my hands scrub off!"

"You seem to be under the impression that I give a damn."

"Well if it's too feminine for such a macho bird like you."

“Bullshit.” He’s baited—knows it too—and hurls another cloth at you. You just miss it, stepping aside. He huffs and handles it with his feet, running it over the handle of the cane. “This thing's gonna be fucking  _glistening_  when I'm done!"

It just might be with that good attitude, you think, smiling.

V eventually joins you both, curious of the partnership you've instigated with his challenging bird and touched that by your action. "You're cleaning."

"This one’s a real slave driver, V. You sure know how to pick em. Maybe that’s what you’re in to, someone who dominates. Not gonna lie, I expected a weirder kink from you, but with how you're fragile and all, might wanna rethink this one, eh?”

You gape. What is Griffon even saying?!

You don't miss the way V's eyes rest on you for a moment while his smirk is present, and you blush. “Well, it wouldn’t be a boring endeavour.” The sensual gleam in his eyes has you fumbling around with his cane, nearly dropping it.

Griffon snaps, “You nasty!”

Nico laughs, "Not a bad way to exercise." she winks at Nero. "Ain't that right?"

Nero groans and keeps his eyes on his devil breaker, "Can't find anything else to do, huh? Gotta pull me in to this shit."

"Kyrie  _did_  look slimmer last I saw her."

"Damn it, Nico, shut up!"

You chuckle, the sight of Nero blushing cute.  _'Good for him'_ , having that special someone in his life when everything else is chaotic and gone to shit. You wonder if V has anyone like that. If he's ever been captivated and had his heart joyfully stolen; he'd sure be as poetic and dramatic as he is now. 'Course, you're speculating. You don't recall ever being in love, so you can't know for sure what it's like to—

V's lips, watching you, spread just the right amount.

_'...Oh.'_

 

* * *

  
**_vi. His skin_ **

 

There are days, when he's exhausted and can't stay up long, when his skin looks parched. Dry and crackly, and he wants to be much stronger.  
  
"You're human." You tell him. "And that means dealing with bothersome shit like this."  
  
"Evidently. Humans are quite fragile creatures. No matter how strong their will, without power, they eventually wilt away..." Proving so, he holds up a hand, watches the simple, slow movement leave bits of him falling.

You swallow at the sight, then put on a smile and offer a tub of moisturiser and concealer, bought at his request. He doesn't need it; V's gorgeous in a surreal way, leaving people staring and their thoughts loose to conjure up fantasies. But the less obvious his wear and tear, the easier it'll be to convince people he's fine.

"Nero and Dante would want to help."

"I expect as much, but I'm already in their debt." He's paid for Dante's services, heavily relying on his great power to defeat Urizen. And when that plan fell through, he recovered Nero—though he was already involved, he'd said, itching to pay the demon back for stealing his right arm. "And yours. Your generosity has been a pleasant addition."

"You saved my life, V. So we're even." You aren't even keeping score; it's a conversation of appreciation, both you and V aware that the other has forever left an imprint in their life in someway, and there's no regret.

 

* * *

 

**_vii His heart_ **

 

"I wanted to be protected...and loved..." V's voice is raspier and forced, words stopped every now and then by a weak cough or stumble. He managed to make it this far by mostly leaning on your shoulder for support when his cane is no longer enough.

When he tells you about himself, about  _everything_ regarding who he is, part of him figures it's best to put distance between you. That you'll want no more to do with him, that you'll feel deceived and betrayed.

You stay with him, making sure he makes it out of the cave, away from gunshots and demon cries, "You're not him."

You're pushed back but get a clear shot of Urizen beforehand, "Your heart is good."

And when calls on every last ounce of strength within him to thrust his cane down in to Urizen, finally outdone, maybe your whisper is the last thing he hears before the light. 

"You're you, V, and it was enough."

 

* * *

 

_**viii.**   **His existence**_

 

You never truly understood what his task was but you knew it meant  _everything_  to him. He was peeling away like old skin but he wasn't going to stop for anything; especially for being weak. "I've little time to spare before I must...finish what I set out to do months ago."

" _Not_  alone."

"I doubt I can convince you otherwise."

You had long since made your mind up the way you felt and there was never any intention of going back now that you know him. The Mysterious One, V, who changed everything in your world. "I just...I want you safe." 'Love' would've been too much pressure to put on him. Too unfair to expect a proper, wholehearted reciprocation while in the back of his mind he was envisioning his metaphoric tombstone.

V's eyes were closed and his lips softly smiling, "To hear the words I've longed for...at such an ironic time."

"Ain't that the truth?" Griffon said, "You're a walking tragedy alright, sir." and Shadow, sat up beneath his suspended body, released a light growl in agreement, practically purring. "Fuck knows where you'd be without us."

You'd grinned, "Despairing about his hair."

"Starving himself."

"Reciting poetry until sunrise."

"Halfway to hell!"

V's chuckle was even softer, "I'd have  _peace_."

"Ain't no rest for the wicked, Kid." Griffon sat on V's shoulder, "And we're not going anywhere. There's still trees that need chopping, a demon that needs killing." Shadow mewled in agreement in front and nuzzled against V's fragile hand.

"Right.  _And_ ," hands on your hips, you raised your head high and gave the most determined look you could, "You still owe me that second date. So don't go offing yourself, you hear?"

V hung his head, buckling a bit under the emotions, the sentiment from how much you all care. It was quiet but definite, his laughter that came, "I apologise. Far be it from my impending demise to ruin our...intimate plans." he lifts a hand, watching the skin crumble and drift away. "There was always a limit."

It was breaking your heart but you sucked it up, bit down on your shaking lip and reigned in the tears. You stood in front of him, decisive, leaving him to look up at you, see your face between emotions, "Don't look back, otherwise you won't know what's ahead!" You were happy. You were glad you met him, that he took you along.

There were no regrets in this moment that you wanted to last.

A smile was allowed to grace his face, if for the last time. "I have a feeling...you intended for that to sound as inspiring as it did."

You feigned nonchalance with a light shrug, "Well..." then you grinned, "I have my moments."

 _‘Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage’._  
—  _Lao Tzu_

**Author's Note:**

> This story seriously took went in its own direction. Started off as a drabble about the different insecurities V could have that I could explore, then it became a sort of _Howl's Moving Castle_ inspired goodbye letter(?) to him. I'm sorry ~~but I can't break your heart more than Capcom already has~~.
> 
> Still burnt out and still planning more dmc5 fics now that it's currently my entire life
> 
> Also V quotes a lot of different poets in this; my V's not just thirsty for William Blake ok.
> 
> [Talk](http://ssubby.tumblr.com/) to me about how much you love V! ❤


End file.
